


House of Ghosts

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Master and Apprentice [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Apprentice Legislator Palpatine, Convergence, Dub-con/Non-con, Dun Moch, M/M, Master/Apprentice, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Sith Shenanigans, Sith Training, Sith slash, Slash, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darth Plagueis finds a new way to torture and fine-tune his young apprentice. Takes place roughly two years after Breaking, Breaking, Broken. </p><p>Rating will go up in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Convergence was cold.

 

Sheev Palpatine suppressed a shiver. He stood on the threshold of the foyer leading to the veranda, one hand steadying himself against the smooth dark stone, the other clenched into a loose fist at his side as he surveyed the overgrown gardens and lawn and clouded lake. Nothing sparkled this afternoon under a sunless sky.

 

Behind him, Darth Plagueis watched and waited like one of the figures on the plinths. The estate lay abandoned for nearly a year now, the previous owners having claimed to be unable to withstand the dark energies in its gloomy halls. Haunted, they had been convinced. Plagueis knew better, of course, but he could easily see how ignorant, Force-blind, superstitious Naboo might believe such tales.

 

Convergence had been on the market only once before, when Palpatine had sold it prior to moving to an apartment in Theed after Tapalo’s election. Now Plagueis sensed a continual stream of occupants in its future, as each timorous buyer would be put off by the Dark Side energy gathered here. It seeped out of the walls as though the murders had happened here instead of on the starship. Or perhaps that was only due to the youth standing in his ancestral home once more. The fledgling Apprentice Legislator. His Apprentice.

 

However, in this moment, the Sith Lord was experiencing difficulty in seeing his Sith apprentice. Certainly Sidious carried himself with the easy grace of a natural predator after four years in his service, certainly he was deadly and powerful, but standing here in the shadow of his past, Plagueis saw mostly the young man he had encountered before the Beginning.

 

He did not mind, in a sense. How easily Plagueis could think back and recall the first time he had laid eyes on the young noble. Even then, the lithe limbs and pale, faintly freckled face had caught his gaze and held it captive. He could remember the halfway flirtatious mannerisms, the haughty promise of _going only fast enough to keep it interesting,_ the assumption that _he_ was in control, and Plagueis chuckled. _Have I kept it interesting enough for you, my young apprentice?_

 

Palpatine glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering at his master’s sudden mirth.

 

Plagueis could suddenly recall the initial wary glance, the turning of the slim body away from him as though to reject him out of hand, the thin friendly face both innocuous and brimming with slippery potential.

 

He remembered the infatuation, the sudden thrill that ran through him when Palpatine slowed down to speak to him, even though the Force had hidden itself in the young man. Even then, Plagueis had known he would be special.

 

“Why are we here, Master?”

 

He lifted his eyes, surprised and pleased at the impatience and irritation bleeding from his apprentice’s shields. No longer looking over the gardens, Palpatine held his gaze with blank eyes. Turning his back to the young human, the Muun drifted into one of the large reception rooms, aware of the other following closely behind. “It’s been four years, hasn’t it?”

 

“You know it has, Master. That doesn’t explain why we are breaking and entering an empty home.”

 

He wasn’t usually this flippant, at least not since Plagueis brutally took him for the first time two years ago, but still he wasn’t tame or ever would be, and the Sith master could feel the unease in his powerful student caused by the memories of this dwelling and the individuals who once populated it. Plagueis looked around; many of the wall-hangings and statuary he recognized from his initial visit years ago. Evidently, the owners had been most appreciative of Lady Palpatine’s sense of style. He imagined how it must gall Palpatine to look at them, to be reminded of his miserable upbringing.

 

It was a grand home, certainly. Expensive and large enough to host half a dozen large families comfortably. A home of ghosts and the Dark Side.

 

“You sold it very shortly after Tapalo became king,” Plagueis said as though in a conversation with the forever-leaping painted zalaaca dangling from the wall in front of him. “I never did ask you why.”

 

“I did not feel you needed to,” Palpatine approached on his left and joined him in studying the painting.

 

Plagueis could sense the razor-edge of his control. Here in this place, the remove from his past deeds lessened, leaving Palpatine vulnerable to the raw emotion underneath. It had been some time since Plagueis had experienced it vicariously, and the heady sensation of his apprentice’s rage was delicious. His trousers tightened a little.

 

“Why don’t you refresh my tired old memory?” Plagueis allowed a gentle smirk to lift his lips.

 

Palpatine’s face remained devoid of expression, as though he were merely citing a dictionary’s entry. “I wanted nothing more to do with the home, Master. Not after the… incident.” He paused, eyes darkening, knowing Plagueis expected more. He always expected more. “Not before, either.”

 

“When your father abused you,” Plagueis said, just to feel the fire and hate bubble upwards. “When he put you, how did you say it once, under his thumb.”

 

He did not wait for Palpatine’s reply, if one were indeed forthcoming, but moved further into the home. He entered a long room with an ancient table of near-black hardwood. “Your father was a cold, hard man who thought he was right, when in fact he was a narrow-minded, narcissistic fool.”

 

Palpatine barked a harsh laugh behind him, the sound echoing through the long chamber. “That was clear to everyone but my father.”

 

Plagueis glanced at him. “And your mother and siblings.”

 

Palpatine refused to look at him. “All of them were fools,” he grated. Too much too soon right now, time to ease away.

 

“What did your servants think of your father?” Plagueis ran his spindly fingers over the dusty high back of the great chair at the head of the table and paused there, looking at the smudges left by his fingertips. He could see again in his mind’s eye the patrician glare and set jaw of Palpatine’s progenitor.

 

Palpatine watched him closely. “They feared him. He fired them whenever the mood struck him. He hit some of them too. Perhaps they hated him, I don’t know. I never paid much attention to them.”

 

Plagueis grinned mirthlessly. “Such a spoiled little noble, weren’t you.”

 

The younger Sith glowered but said nothing more, deferring to his master, and Plagueis offered a dry chuckle. He liked the fire this place brought to his apprentice, the way it stirred the hot rage in the human’s blood. He wondered what it might be like to taste that blood in these halls, to feel the slide into tight, constricting heat…

 

But not yet. There were still a few things to discuss, and the time was not yet right.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagueis looks for the weak link in his apprentice's armor.

 

They stood for a long moment of silence in the dining room.

 

“You know, your father took me on a tour of Convergence when he brought me here,” Plagueis said. “He showed me a dozen different rooms, all grander than the last.”

 

Palpatine nodded. “He was attempting to intimidate you, Master. I saw him do it many times to other Naboo.” He reflected and quietly added, “It is common in our culture.”

 

“Humans,” Plagueis sniffed. He enjoyed the sudden stiffness in those narrow shoulders, the thinning of the already barely-there lips. “Well, humans and others. You certainly aren’t alone in the galaxy in such ridiculous rituals and power displays.”

 

Palpatine dipped his head in reply.

 

Plagueis withdrew his hand from its resting place on the chair and walked the length of the impressively carved table. The previous occupants had left most of the furniture behind, he observed as he moved into the next room, a receiving room of some sort, judging by the plush, half-covered couches and refreshment bar made of mottled granite and alabace along the far wall. The lake house had not only been abandoned; it _felt_ abandoned, as though the owners had simply fled, leaving behind a flaking veneer of petty grandeur.

 

It felt more real like this too, dirty and marred, like its dark history.

 

He saw a wine glass overturned on the counter and called to him with the Force. Turning it over in his hands, he said, “Your father didn’t show me everything, for obvious reasons. I would like to finish my tour.”

 

Palpatine lingered in the doorframe, eyes fixed on the glass in his master’s hand. “There is little to see. It is a shell, doubtless, like this.” He beckoned at the couches.  

 

Plagueis quirked a harsh smile at him. “You will just have to do your best to remember then.”

 

A lesser eye might not have caught the flinch. Palpatine sighed. “Yes, Master.”

 

The young human took him further into the depths of the dimly lit home, pointing out and describing the various rooms they passed with clinical detachment: a guest quarters, the kitchens, a secondary receiving room, a playroom for children, a storage room for overgowns – nearly one hundred empty pegs. Plagueis looked at his apprentice. “The parties held in this home must have been spectacular.”

 

Palpatine didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Smokescreens and show, Master, like the rest of it.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Palpatine led him at last into the residential area, past half a dozen bedrooms. Plagueis reached out and snagged his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. He let his hand linger in a caress, just enough to be improper, and gently pressed. “Which was yours?”

 

The youth swallowed at the hint in his hand. “The last one on the left.”

 

The room and its refresher unit lay at a good distance from the others, perhaps originally meant as a guard’s quarters. Although large enough, it was much smaller in comparison to the ones before. The insult was clear: secluded and less. Plagueis marveled anew at the resentment Cosinga must have felt for his son. _You prepared him well for me, old fool._

 

He turned in a semicircle in the center of the room and opened his senses to the Dark Side. There. _There_ it was. The echoes of nearly two decades of arrogant hate and fear and desperation. To escape. To hurt. To kill, invisible vapors curling around the edges of the stonework. He smiled. “The memories must be very strong for you here.”

 

Palpatine kept his gaze trained on the floor. Curious. Plagueis could feel the reluctant submission and loathing leaking into his apprentice even now, as though the room was taking him back into the past.

 

“Did your father strike you often?”

 

Palpatine looked up at last, eyes faintly glowing. “It doesn’t matter, Master, he is dead.”

 

“By your own hands, no less,” Plagueis inclined his head and allowed a note of warning to ring through his deep voice. “But you failed to answer my question.”

 

The reply was almost biting. “Yes, Master, mostly when I was too young to risk striking back,” Palpatine sneered, covering his distress in a thick layer of hate. “He was a coward.”

 

Without warning, Plagueis ripped into his mind, seeking the memories that his apprentice was clearly holding back. Flashes, images, snippets flew by. A raised hand, a shivering, frightened child flattened under the long table, tea-

 

He encountered a glassy black lake of pitch as Palpatine raised his shielding, as his master had taught him. The images sank into the endless murk, drowning any who dared to follow. Plagueis withdrew, pleased. “Well done,” he said. “Although I gained enough information to serve my purposes. You must do better next time.”

 

Palpatine hesitated, having sensed his master’s low arousal in the attack, but when Plagueis did nothing, he nodded and walked from the room. Plagueis followed him, and they continued the tour through half a dozen more rooms. One engraved door Palpatine hesitated to approach, and Plagueis pushed past him curiously. “What is here?”

 

“My father’s old office. It is nothing.”

 

“I will be the judge of that.” He pushed it open with a low creak, revealing a room filled with hardwood furniture and shelves and a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the lake. The room smelled of wood and vague mustiness, as though it had been cordoned off and left alone for years. He reached out with the Force; perhaps it had. The Naboo did have rather strange beliefs about the deceased. _But this is perfect, better than I even expected…_

He looked at the shelves. Bits and pieces of decorative items, books still on the shelves, paperwork still stacked on the corner of the massive desk. _They left it all._ He pressed deeper into the room and rotated to take in all the corners. Instantly, one wall caught his attention, blank but for the large painting centered at eye height. How interesting… and sure to prove most entertaining.

 

He glanced back; Palpatine still stood in the door, unwilling to enter and unable to see the painting from his vantage point. “Come in, Lord Sidious. There is nothing to fear here,” he coaxed.

 

Palpatine made it several steps into the middle of the room before he stopped in his tracks and spotted the painting. He stared at it, straight into the features that would likely be his someday. His presence in the Force trembled with his sudden abhorrence.

 

His master came to stand at his side, gazing up into the stern countenance. “Remarkable likeness. They must have felt it would be dishonorable to remove him so soon after death,” Plagueis murmured. “You Naboo are entirely too sentimental and superstitious.”

 

Palpatine nodded. He wanted to destroy it, to rip it apart with the Force, that much was clear. Plagueis shook his head. This was a perfect opportunity, and he had no intention of letting Palpatine act on his instincts. He waved his apprentice back and approached the painting once more. The dead man’s son remained in the center of the office, warily keeping watch as though he expected the ghosts of the past to come alive again and descend on him.

 

Perhaps they would, Plagueis mused darkly. In a sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will raise the ratings up to their usual level. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagueis makes a move and forces Palpatine to face the expectations of long-gone ghosts.

Plagueis perused the painting leisurely, noting the fine quality of the brushstrokes, the exquisite detail that rendered a life-like image. “This must have been painted several years before my arrival on Naboo,” he glanced at Palpatine. “He is younger and less wrinkled, though his hair is grey.”

 

“He was prematurely grey,” Palpatine replied, his smooth features twisting with faint satisfaction. “It was a source of embarrassment to him.”

 

“Your father was a vain man,” Plagueis mused. “You humans take such pride in so small a thing. He should have been more proud of his other accomplishments, like you.”

 

Palpatine flinched, and his anger surged in the Force. “You well know my father despised the sight of me.”  

 

Plagueis chuckled. “So he did. Vain and blind both. Had he but seen your potential, imagine how different things might be even now. Our paths might have never intersected.”

 

His apprentice scowled but said nothing.

 

“What would your father ever say, if he knew what has become of you?” Plagueis asked, reveling in the wave of hot anger behind him. “That you are a servant of the Dark Side. That you are growing skilled in pleasuring the very Muun he so badly wanted to kill… You know how he tried to keep me away from you.”

 

A low growl escaped the young human at the memory of Chandrila.

 

“He failed.” Plagueis dropped his voice to a purr and turned to face him, anticipating the tearing of this wound, tasting blood on the air. “Do you know he compared me to Chaos, that House Palpatine was one of the six gates holding back Chaos from Naboo?”

 

Palpatine sniffed and glanced dismissively at the painting. “It’s an old legend, if one believes in those sort of things.” How deliciously arrogant, even now…

 

“Of course you don’t, being the vanguard of the modern Naboo,” Plagueis chuckled and stepped closer, gliding across the cool floor, his robes whispering and licking at the lush carpet under his boots. Palpatine looked at him as though unsure how to take Plagueis’s remark, thick red eyebrows pressing together in a faint frown.

 

The older Sith stopped a meter away and gazed down at the young human. “Cosinga thought himself strong enough to hold back Chaos. He thought his transparent threats would drive me away into the shadows like a whimpering broken coward. To go defeated back to Muunlinist and play with my kingdoms of credits.”

 

He watched Palpatine tensing and summoned the crude words, the cruel taunt, from the depths of the Dark Side. “How wrong the fool was. What would Cosinga Palpatine say if he knew his legacy took my cock up his ass instead, whenever, however I wanted? Like a common whore.”

 

“Stop…” the youth hissed, face flaming bright red to match his singular hair. “Stop it.”

 

“The truth is difficult, is it not?” Plagueis grinned. “He would roll over in his grave to know that his firstborn noble son, the last of his glorious line, feels pleasure along with the pain when I take him. Perhaps it would confirm everything he ever thought about you, hm?”

 

Palpatine’s eyes flashed golden, and he turned to leave, the Force gathering in darkness around him, but Plagueis caught up in a few quick strides and snaked out a hand and snagged the trembling thin wrist. “Let me go, Master,” Palpatine said, a strange note in his voice. He didn’t dare strike out against his more powerful master, but every muscle grew rigid with the desire to escape.  

 

Plagueis tightened his grip with the promise of pain, ignoring the soft plea. “A whore, perhaps. But you are not common, Lord Sidious. I commune with the Dark Side itself when I take my fill of you.”

 

Palpatine gained a little of the fire back. His thin lips curled with aristocratic disdain. “If I am a whore, Master, you have made it so. Do not forget that you forced me.”

 

Plagueis struck him hard across the cheek with his other hand. To his credit, Palpatine did not cry out, though the sound echoed in the stone chamber and the Force boiled with barely contained rage. The memories echoed right along with it. “Oh, I will _never_ forget that moment, I promise you. But I will not tolerate impertinence from you, my apprentice. Yes, I forced you… to face your true nature. This fire, this _passion_ you are showing is delightful, but you forget your place. Someday, when the galaxy worships at our feet, you will be grateful for the lessons I provide.”

 

He focused the Dark Side on the young human’s throat, constricting just a pinch until Palpatine coughed and bowed his head in surrender. “Yes, Master. I apologize.”

 

Plagueis tugged the small body flush against his own and claimed the human’s lips harshly. When Palpatine did not immediately part under him, he used his fingers to pry the clenched jaw open and slid his tongue into the warm, wet heat. The Dark Side shivered.

 

He lingered in the kiss, delighting in the scalding shame that radiated from the human. What a unique experience these days, rare in such intensity. He knew exactly why when he pulled back and saw Palpatine’s eyes golden and fixed on the painting of his father. Plagueis wanted to become lost in the sparking loathing he found there. This was a wild, impulsive animal clothed in the barest hint of humanity. He wanted to tease it into a raging fire, into the storm of the Dark Side.

 

But impertinence could not go unaddressed, not yet. So instead, he laid his hands on the narrow shoulders and pushed down. “This place makes you bold, Sidious, but you will apologize thoroughly.”

 

Palpatine offered only a token resistance as he slid to his knees on the lush carpet and watched his master, unblinking, his slender fingers clenching in the thick weave. Plagueis nodded toward the painting before he loosened his belt. “He would be horrified. Perhaps you should enjoy this for that reason alone.”  

 

But when he freed himself from his trousers and grinned down, Palpatine looked anything but pleased. Plagueis’s smile grew wider, toothier. “Or perhaps he would laugh at you and say this is where you belonged after all, kneeling at my feet, taking my cock. What do you suppose, my apprentice?”

 

How it stirred his blood to have Sidious openly resistant once more! Plagueis shivered with delight when Palpatine made no move to touch him. He had missed this part of their relationship in the last few months. Although he enjoyed Palpatine’s services often, a little spark was always a pleasant addition. The little part of his apprentice that might never be broken, the part that resisted like a tuskcat cub against new reins.

 

He pulled the reins tightly, threading his spindly fingers into the shaggy red hair and pulling Palpatine closer until his large shaft brushed the firmly pressed lips. “Open for me, my apprentice,” he growled. “Prove him right.”

 

Palpatine hissed between clenched teeth. He had never liked taking his master like this; Plagueis could clearly remember the first, magnificent time he had violated the small, tender mouth… how he had looked into the busy mind and sensed complete humiliation and helpless rage.

 

When his apprentice continued to kneel without moving, Plagueis laughed and tore at his mind’s shielding with the Dark Side. As Palpatine was struggling to find his balance in the Force, he gripped the jaw and forced it open, sliding his girth in deep enough to make his apprentice gag. The Dark shrieked silently under his grip, and the Sith master let his own strength gather in warning as he withdrew. “Do not bite today,” he said, and received a sharp nod.

 

Palpatine lifted his hands to his master’s hips and steadied himself. Tentatively, his tongue flicked out to lick at the wide tip, and Plagueis sighed and tightened his grip on the soft hair, drawing out a wince of pain. “You have been learning your lessons well, Lord Sidious. I invested wisely when I purchased that slave from Zeltros. He taught you effectively, it appears.”

 

Through the tattered shielding, he caught a wave of mortified anger at the memory, and chuckled. Palpatine doubled his focus, laving his master’s shaft from root to tip and back again before taking the first centimeters between his lips and applying the lightest pressure. Plagueis found his laugh transformed into a low hiss of pleasure.    

 

He was getting hard at last. Plagueis glanced at the portrait of the deceased father. “If he could see how well trained you are, he might even be impressed. You mouthed off enough to him, I think he might agree we’ve found a better use for it.” Palpatine took him deeper, much deeper, and Plagueis bit back a groan. The tongue swirled around his length, pressed him to the roof of the mouth, probed at his weeping slit. Such a pleasant firm fit, but not as tight as what waited for him between the boy’s legs.

 

Plagueis wanted it more than he should have, but here, with Cosinga glaring down and Palpatine’s shame so arousing and strong and the house so dark and cold, he found it difficult to care. He pulled free when he felt his hardness increase nearly to the point of no return. Palpatine looked up at him and wiped the saliva and precum from his lips with a faint scowl, as though he could sense his master’s thoughts.

 

“Does it bother you, Lord Sidous?” Plagueis nodded at the painting.

 

His apprentice shook his head, pulling his weathered shields tighter over his mind. “It is nothing to me, Master.”

 

They would see about that. Very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things are going downhill fast for Palpatine now. Plagueis certainly enjoys torturing his poor apprentice. 
> 
> What'd you think?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plagueis draws his lesson to a close.

Plagueis stood over his kneeling apprentice, admiring the way the human’s shaggy red hair shone in the dim lighting. He supposed other Muuns would feel only vague disgust for such a thing, but Plagueis had been awoken to the pleasure of the human physique, in all the marvelous ways it differed from the taller species. Other Muuns might only bore him now when he had tasted the Dark Side in mortal form. 

He saw Palpatine lick his lips, surreptitiously attempting to remove the evidence of his master’s possession. Plagueis smirked. “It’s no use cleaning up. We’re not finished here. I sense in you a great reluctance, my apprentice. What holds you back from serving me unreservedly?” 

Palpatine did not look at the painting. “I apologize, Master. This house makes it difficult for me to focus.” 

“Why?” he asked bluntly, but he knew the answer already. 

The Naboo hesitated. “The memories are not pleasant.” 

“I know. I can sense your hatred swelling in you.” Plagueis studied the silver-painted hair, the cold eyes that stared out flatly over them and saw nothing and everything at once in the cold room. “Hatred makes a Sith powerful, but only if the Sith controls it. Once hatred takes power, a Sith is nothing more than a helpless conduit for the Dark Side. Much like the Dark Lords of the ancient eras. Is your hatred controlling you, Sidious?”

He swallowed. “No. It isn’t. If it were, we would not be here.” 

Plagueis ignored the naïve little implied threat. Yes, his apprentice was powerful already and if unleashed might be a terrible foe, but his training currently paled in comparison to his master’s. Plagueis was never out of tricks to play on this youth, tricks that bruised and tore the tender shell, tricks that could so easily part the strong, lean thighs for his pleasure, to take Sidious’s control away and remind the tense little human just who he belonged to, to pull that taut body against his and fill it until it writhed helplessly against him. 

He ignored the longing of his body and scoffed aloud. “Yet you still fail to maintain control over these memories. When I beat you into the snow on Mygeeto, I sensed your resolve growing stronger. But here, in these shadowy halls, you are that same youngling.”

“I have grown more powerful, you know it’s true,” Palpatine insisted, his eyes dark with renewed anger. Plagueis knew how he felt, knew how he wanted to wrap those hands around the Muun’s throat and squeeze until nothing was left. Plagueis knew because he had often desired the same thing of his old master. Different circumstances, certainly, and he smirked at the thought, but the same boiling hate carefully held to a simmer. To self-preserve. 

“So you have. And what good is all the power in the universe if you cannot control it, Lord Sidious?” Plagueis asked. “Nothing. The universe is unkind, the Force is unkind. It will not take mercy on you or lessen the assault on your very struggle to survive. You must stalk what you desire, take your control and your remove and build them like walls around yourself. Only then will you be strong enough to make demands of the Force.”

The boy remained where he was, sitting back on his haunches there in the lush carpeting, hands defiantly curling into his sleeves, blue eyes flashing. “If we were anywhere else…” 

Plagueis leaned down over him and seized the pale throat in his left hand. Under him, Palpatine froze, not quite with fear but something both more and less, like an animal. Plagueis stroked his thumb over the smooth skin and let his voice slide over the small ears. “We’re not ‘anywhere else,’ my apprentice. Do you think the Force will spare you your weaknesses?”

“Not… weak…” Palpatine hissed when the grip tightened. 

“I can feel your anger for this place, your hatred for the memories here. They are not worthy of it, my apprentice. Turn your mind inward and strengthen your will today. Use this lesson to test your power.” Plagueis chuckled when he felt his student swallow against his hand. Such fragile things, these human beings, so easily harmed, so long to repair torn muscle and sinew. Today, though, he had no intention to break Sidious physically. The young man had long since inured himself to pain of that sort, though he still gasped when Plagueis took him. 

The thought reminded him that he was hard and ready. “Get up,” Plagueis demanded, releasing the throat and tugging at the hair. Such a marvelous soft thing it was, spilling through his fingers, dead at the tips and so sensitive when rooted in the skin. Palpatine moaned softly at the sharp jerk and rose to his feet. Plagueis gripped his high collar and tore, unheeding of the cloth’s expensive nature and wanting what lay underneath, wan and shuddering. 

Plagueis shoved the robes roughly down the lean body, tearing them down, stripping his apprentice clean of everything except his dark leather boots. Palpatine’s delicate white skin flushed and pebbled in the cold temperature, his shaft limp and uneager. 

For an endless moment Plagueis stood at his side and looked him over boldly, finally catching him by the chin and turning the narrow face toward the portrait. He could feel Palpatine trembling with subdued rage. 

“It is only a painting,” the Muun said in a mockery of comfort. “They are only memories. Tell me one.”

Palpatine drew his eyes back to his master, wide and uncertain. “A memory, Master?” 

Plagueis hummed and traced the tip of his finger over faint freckles on the porcelain flesh. “What did your father do to you when he punished you?” 

“You know he struck me. For little reasons or big ones, it was all the same to him. I broke a vase once by accident and received the same punishment as when I killed his favorite greysor on purpose.” His apprentice dropped his gaze, his tone flippant and uncaring but his mind awash in confusion and anger when Plagueis touched against him in the Force. The shields were still strong. 

“Is that all?” he pressed him, pried at the stubborn cover, and watched with pleasure as the shields cracked in one moment and rebuilt in the next. This one had such potential… 

Palpatine shivered when Plagueis ran a long hand over his chest and down to his slender, flaccid cock. He jerked his eyes to the painting, then away and down, biting at his lip as Plagueis lazily stroked him. “Wh- why would there be more in his small mind? He just enjoyed hitting things.” 

“You are beautiful in your own pale, ungainly way,” the Sith Master paused to drink in the sight, then a thought occurred to him that made him smile slyly. “Beautiful enough. Did he ever touch you?” 

Palpatine appeared to be genuinely horrified and angered, the Force recoiling and causing his shields to shudder under the onslaught. “No!” 

Plagueis grinned coldly. I was truly the first. “Good. No doubt he would not have sullied himself with his greatest failure. But you are breath-taking, my apprentice. Hard and cold and aloof, and so passionate all the same. We have spent two years teaching you how to take your passion beyond hatred and anger, beyond cold revenge into hot desire. You are transforming under my guidance, Lord Sidious. He never dreamed, never imagined, that his son could become… this.” He beckoned to the wiry ropes of muscles, the hidden strength of the little human. 

Palpatine paused, lifting his baleful eyes from the carpet. As he sought his master’s gaze, Plagueis could sense a strange vulnerability, some indefinable tipping point. The Force suspended itself in the thick air between them. “What am I, Master?” 

What a cautious taming he will require… 

Plagueis leaned in, ghosting his lips across the human’s nose. “Perfection,” he breathed. “Absolute darkness, inhuman power.” 

For a moment, Palpatine must have dared to hope. Then Plagueis pushed him to face the cold stone wall beneath the portrait and covered the smaller body with his own, grinding against him hard, letting him feel the desire and the slickness of his pulsing shaft between the shaking legs. He looked down at the firm, smooth buttocks and ran a possessive hand over the silky skin and felt it shiver. 

“And mine.” 

He opened him quickly with his cock, sliding into the waiting, clenched orifice and reveling in the soft intake of breath. So tight, so tight… resisting every centimeter of advancement, flexing almost painfully around him. The Dark Side screamed with rage, with savage approval. Palpatine moaned and shifted, hands clutching at the rough stones for balance as Plagueis nearly lifted him off his feet with the first few thrusts. Finally the Muun embedded himself in the small body and paused, leaning against the wall. 

Under him, Palpatine’s slender form quivered and tensed at the unwelcome intrusion. He panted quietly with the pain, with the feeling of being abruptly stretched and impaled by his master’s inhuman length. Plagueis wrapped his hands around the narrow hips and squeezed hard enough to leave bruises and draw out a nearly silent sob of hate. Palpatine was in no frame of mind for seduction in this place, under his dead father’s gaze, and Plagueis did not really want his compliance anyway. He wanted him to learn. 

He leaned down over the left ear, nipped at it, and whispered, “You are mine for eternity, Sidious. Remember that. Your father couldn’t hold you. No one else will ever tame you but me. No one else will ever show you the Force as I will. I am your master and guide in all things. Even this.”

Palpatine whimpered at the next hard thrust, back arching. Blood trickled down the inner curve of his thighs. 

Plagueis pinned him roughly against the wall and trailed a hand along the ridge of his spine, teasing a shiver loose. “I told you once, Apprentice, that your survival lay in your submission. Say it, Sidious. Tell me who rules over you, body and soul. Who you submit to in your darkest moments.” 

The shadows broiled over his senses. Palpatine gasped. “I don't…” 

“Come now...” he growled and nipped at an ear. “Who can show you the full power of the Dark Side?” 

His apprentice shuddered around his throbbing length and moaned, pressing against the solid surface in a futile bid to escape the pressure in his sensitive entrance. In the Force, he had become a writhing pit of desperate agony. Plagueis knew he would now say anything to appease his master, to rid himself of the pain and humiliation, to put an end to it all. “Y-you…” 

“Who?” Plagueis sighed, nearing his release and jerking his hips forward faster now, touching the Dark Side to the fired nerve endings under his fingertips. “Say it!” 

“Mas…M-Master!”

Plagueis raked his long hands over the shivering flanks. “Yes. I am.” 

The Dark Lord came hard at the sound of the yelp on his final thrust, his fluids filling the young human in a climax that left Palpatine collapsing against the wall, muscles limp and body boneless. He had not come; he was barely hard, but the Dark Side of the Force was sated and sluggish. Plagueis felt himself loosening in the tight channel, and he let the youth slide off his cock to the floor with a soft, bitten-off whine of pain, staining the carpet with his blood and the evidence of his master’s pleasure. 

Plagueis looked down at Palpatine, who lay quietly curled and dazed at his feet, the Dark Side curling protectively around him, then up at the portrait over them. He felt triumphant, heady, and powerful. “Cosinga thought House Palpatine would hold back Chaos, but he could not have been more wrong, my apprentice.” He observed the painting closely as he tucked himself away. “House Palpatine is Chaos.”

Palpatine made a small sound: a sigh of agreement, or a hiss of protest? Plagueis could not determine it. He smiled. “Do not question your destiny, Lord Sidious. You know it to be true. You will become the chaotic storm to wash away all that has come before, and I will guide you until you are ready to be unleashed. Together we will reorder the galaxy.”

He looked into Cosinga’s cold eyes, so dark compared to the mesmerizing glow of his son’s. 

“Perhaps I should thank you for your son, Cosinga, and yet… If there is afterlife for your kind, then I suspect you know this,” he told the sneering, dead man. “He was never truly yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What an un-fun ride for poor Sidious, but Plagueis isn't a Sith for nothing. Palpy is learning lessons, but maybe not the ones Plagueis wants him to. 
> 
> What did you guys think? Feedback or thoughts are great! and greatly appreciated. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Ever seen pictures of those European and American mansions that were abandoned with everything still in them? In my headcanon, Convergence has some seriously bad juju, and I imagine it being abandoned not long after Palpatine sold it the first time. Hence the plot bunny! xD 
> 
> Remember that I'm not writing these in chronological order. To get the chronological order, click on the series. :D


End file.
